


The Daily Grind - I'm Going to Lose My Mind

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Attack of the Clones, Kamino, Life on Kamino, clone life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: For a clone on Kamino, life becomes very monotonous. The same food, the same information, the same routine, the same faces - literally and figuratively. One clone trooper waits impatiently for the day everything will change.





	The Daily Grind - I'm Going to Lose My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr blog celebrate-the-clone-wars' writing Wednesday prompt: A Breath of Fresh Air

I wake to the sound of my sleep pod sliding open. Florescent lights momentarily blind me as I groggily sit up. The Kaminoans claim that their painfully white walls are actually full of color, just in a spectrum me and the others can’t see. I’m not sure I believe them.

All around me, other sleep pods open, and my brothers clamber down from them. All of them with my face. Hundreds in this dormitory, thousands more in Acolan City, and who knows how many more spread across the planet. All with my face. Well, not really _my_ face – the face of the bounty hunter, Jango Fett, the template we were all based on. With a groan, I climb down from my fifth-tier chamber.

With the wake-up cycle finished, the pods slide shut, and I join the procession of clones toward the refreshers. There’s not much noise as we walk; no one will have anything new to discuss until after simulations.

In the mess hall, the third rotation of the breakfast meal is served. I take my tray to an empty spot and start eating, ignoring some idle chatter between a couple of clones two seats from me. I’ve never met these particular troopers, but I know them almost as well as I know myself.

I don’t particularly care for the flavor of the meal, but I eat it, because I won’t eat again until midday, and I’m going to need the calories. The Kaminoans say that when we’re finally deployed, we’ll be living off ration bars on the field, and this kind of food will seem like a banquet.

I can't wait for that day.

I spot CT-2084 as I make my way to SimRoom 12. One of the clones from my squad, he's already in his armor, T-visored helmet clutched under his arm, already prepped for today's mock battle. He's hurrying towards me, eyebrows slightly raised; it's the expression that announces he's got some bit of gossip he can't wait to share.

Not that the gossip will be very good. The last time 2084 got this excited, it was because they'd added another type of food to the dinner rotation. Still, anything to liven up the monotony is good in my book.

He catches up to me just as I get to the armory. “You're not gonna believe this,” he says as we walk through the door. In the room, pulling on their white armor plating, four other clones look over at us.

“Got another bit of hearsay for us, Gossip?” One of them calls out. CT-2204 started calling 2084 the nickname a year or two ago, and a few of the others had picked up on it. I thought it was a bit ridiculous myself, but it definitely was accurate.

“Oh, this isn't hearsay,” 2084 objects. “I was right next to Cala Na when she got a communique from Tipoca City. Heard it myself. Wanted you guys to be the first to know.”

“What is it?” I ask wearily.

2084's eyes dance. “There was a Jedi in Tipoca City.”

Now that _is_ news. “A Jedi?”

He nods emphatically. “Came to check on our progress, apparently.”

“How long ago?” 2204 demands.

“A few days. Left after a few hours, but Cala Na seems to think they'll be making more routine checks.”

“About damn time,” 1988 says, strapping on his gauntlets. “I was starting to think the Republic wouldn't ever need us.”

“They still might not,” a clone we call Lock points out. “Writing up a progress report doesn't mean we'll be deployed.”

“No need to be a downer,” I grumble. 

2937 walks over from the row of helmets by the wall and claps me on the shoulder. “Don't worry, Ji. You'll get your shot.”

_Ji._ That's what they called me. My birth number is CT-2783, but last year they decided the first two numbers looked like “j” and “i” in Aurabesh, and the nickname had taken hold. I don't really mind it, but they can't call me that around the Kaminoans. They frown upon nicknames.

I make a noncommittal grunt and busy myself with suiting up. While the others make idle talk about what the Jedi must be like (“They're fierce fighters, can take on a whole army by themselves –” “Not from what Fett said about Galidraan”), I'm left brooding. 

If I don't get off this planet soon, I'm going to lose my mind. There's only so many ways to entertain yourself on an isolated city with the same few thousand people. And even with culture classes and combat training, we're all exposed to the same material, the same experiences. Sometimes we're able to siphon some restricted Holonet access from the city's main terminals, but we don't have much contact with the galaxy at large – or even with clones in other cities. It's become almost stifling.

The simulated combat passes uneventfully. None of us die, and no one gets hurt except for Lock, who overextends his shoulder in the last five minutes of the sim. We make our way – along with six other squads – to the afternoon meal. Then we're off to the terminals, continuing our lessons from yesterday about Mandalorian military campaigns. It's mostly a recap of a battle strategy course we took three years ago, and I find it difficult to focus.

Then the evening meal. Then two hours of free time where we can socialize and do as we please. I sit with my squad and try to interact, but I still feel too distracted. Then the lights-out signal goes off, and I climb up to my pod. I lay in the dark a long time before I fall asleep. 

*

Wake-up cycle. 

Fresher. 

Meal. 

Sims. 

Meal. 

Lesson.

Meal.

Free time.

Lights-out.

*

Wake-up cycle. 

Fresher. 

Meal. 

Sims. 

Meal. 

Lesson.

Meal.

Free time.

Lights-out.

*

Wake-up cycle. 

Seas, I'm going to go crazy. 

Day in, day out, it's been like this for years. It didn't used to bother me. There was always something to learn, a new sim to go through, something new to talk about. But then I noticed that I have the same conversations, the sims are just variations of trials we've already gone through, the lessons just reiterating things we already know. 

If it bothers my brothers, they don't let on. So I don't bring it up. Because if it doesn't bother them, I might be defective. And if I'm defective and the Kaminoans find out... I don't want to think about it. 

So I keep quiet as I eat my morning meal and listen to my squad chat about our combat yesterday. I like this meal better than the one three days ago, so I'm in a slightly better mood. Slightly. 

And then, without warning, a klaxon blares. 

Silence falls across the mess hall as we look up at the sound. One long, steady sound reverberating through all of Acolan City, through all of Kamino, through every clone trooper's heart as something shakes loose, something wakes up, as a single thought crosses all our minds.

_It's time._

I leap to my feet, and beside me, so do my brothers. We surge towards the exits, but there's no panic, no unnecessary chatter. It's time, and we know exactly what to do. 

We have been through the drills, and we know what needs to happen.

I follow the others to the armory, and grab the first set of armor I can get my hands on. I can't get my thoughts straight, but my movements are automatic, practically programmed. I don the armor, and place the helmet over my head; the Heads-Up Display activates, and I feel the realness of what is happening hit me.  _It's time._ I grab the closest DC-15 rifle from the rack, and join the throng making their way to the cruisers. 

I fall in line, matching the steps of the men around me as I board the fifth ship in the enormous hanger. My feet take me to my designated meeting area for my unit. Lock is there, and Gossip, and all the others, and the unit leader, and thousands and thousands of brothers. 

The air is charged as the engines whine and rev around us. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I feel my own anticipation reflected in the visors surrounding me. I have no idea where we're going, or what will happen when we exit hyperspace. I don't know if I'll die today, or live long enough to see the entire galaxy. 

I don't know, and it doesn't matter. 

All I know is I'm leaving Kamino far behind

It's time.


End file.
